The Lost Bellator

Eleven

Silva

Their third day of walking had them through the valley, and starting up the mountain. He noticed that she never got winded, something he told himself he would ask her when he got the chance. And when he set camp to sleep, she stayed by the fire and kept her eyes on the forest. She didn't shiver, she didn't eat. She was stone, she was silent. She terrified him, though he wouldn't admit it out loud.

He found that they were making time a lot quicker than when he had traveled by himself. She moved at a swift pace, one he could easily keep up with, and they rarely stopped. He was alright with that, stopping made him want to rest, and resting took up time.

They were silent, rarely making conversation as they went, and Arlaige was fine with that. It left him to his thoughts, to his plans. He was beginning to formulate how he was going to approach the townsfolk, and how he would get them to see that the Bellator's purpose had always been to protect them, and they had strayed from that.

He was confident that he would get them to see, but every step closer they got to his town, the more nervous he grew. What if they didn't listen to him? What if his sister was already dead? What if they repeated their past? What if they were doomed to fail? He had to get to his town first, and then all the other towns around him, but they had an even bigger evil to face: the King.

He was cruel, harsh, and if what the Bellator said was true, then he would have powers that a human army could not overcome. But if he had the Bellator on his side...well, Arlaige had hope. It was small, but it was there.

The King was said to have reigned even before Arlaige's birth. Before many of the people in town had even existed. He had taken hostages from Arlaige's town when he was a child, something he would remember for the rest of his life. He could still hear the screams, could still smell the smoke of the fire, could still hear Jorin, screaming as his sister was taken away as Arlaige clutched his own sister to his side.

Jorin had been the first to join Arlaige's cause. He had been different ever since his sister had been taken, and he wanted nothing more than to see the King kicked off of his throne. He was more outspoken than Arlaige was, and that in turn had caused more to join their cause, but also more to hate them. They weren't exactly liked in Arlaige's town, but they hadn't minded. All they wanted was peace, and they would stop at nothing until they had it.

It felt nice, to have a friend in his town. He had grown up with Jorin, and they had become even closer when his sister had gotten taken. Arlaige saw him as a brother, and he helped with Celia, which made him respect Jorin even more. Now he was watching over Celia and Arlaige had felt there was no one safer that Celia could be with. He only hoped to return the favor to Jorin, and get his sister to safety.

But it was no easy task. Arlaige still had to rally, he still had to gather an army, and the odds were against him.

"You are brooding," he comments.

She shoots him a glare. "I am not."

"You are," he says. "I can sense your discomfort from here. Why?"

"Why?" She mocks, but she seems to think better of her mockery. She lets out a huff before she looks over her shoulder, an almost sad look on her face, and back ahead.

"I have not yet been this far from my...home in quite some time."

"Ah," he says. "Where exactly would that be?"

She lets out a short bark of laughter. "Did you think I slept on the ice?"

"I hadn't thought you slept at all, if I am to be honest."